No Way Out But Through
by Rashaka
Summary: So many unattended fantasies he'd had over her, so many guilty moments in the shower or the bed that left him spent and shaking, telling himself it was okay because she was old enough, because she was his friend, because she might imagine him that way too. - Mature content, dark humor, angst.
1. The trick is to keep breathing

**Rating:** HIGH MATURE  
**Prompt:** Anonymous, "Jeff/Annie, f*ck or die." For the Kink Meme at LJ's comm **Community_tv**.  
**Writing Soundtrack**: the Jeff/Annie song mix "Love You Down" playlist on Songza.

**Summary:** Jeff and Annie are stuck in a scenario that asks too much of them, and surviving comes at a price.

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**No Way Out But Through**

"I knew we shouldn't have taken this stupid tour!"

Raising his foot, Jeff kicked savagely at the antique door keeping them prisoner. The gesture was useless: even if it was old, the wood was thick. Besides, Jeff's muscles were more of a decorative preference than tools of ready violence. "The cake and tequila were a lie!"

Annie put her head in her hands and took her turn as the reasonable one. "This is all Pierce's fault," she complained. "It's his chauvinist, moronic cult that's doing this to us. And where is he, remind me?"

Jeff practically growled his response: "Likely fell asleep in the lobby toilet." He kicked the door again for certainty, then flopped down onto the futon next to Annie. They sat together, contemplating the barrier to freedom.

"What are we supposed to do in here?"

"Fuck if I know."

"YES, AHEM, EXACTLY," said a new voice. Both prisoners swung their heads about like bobble heads until Annie pointed out the small speaker in the far corner, hanging on the wall beside a set of shelves. The shelves held folded blankets and sheets, neatly stacked, two pillows, and a few new-age-y looking textbooks.

The voice on the loud speaker was weak and breathy, like from a person who didn't get enough exercise. It-he- attempted to use polite words, but that did little to alleviate the effect.

"BETWEEN THE TWO OF YOU, WE HAVE A SAMPLE SIZE THAT, WHILE SMALL, IS ENOUGH TO MEET OUR MINIMUM REQUIREMENTS. YOU ARE FULLY MATURED EXAMPLES OF HUMAN MALE AND HUMAN FEMALE, EVEN BEING OF COMPATIBLE SEXUAL ALIGNMENT, WHICH WE'VE BEEN INFORMED IS IMPORTANT IN YOUR CULTURE."

Annie reacted first. "What? WHAT?" The second word hit a piercing note as she nearly leapt to her feet, planted her stance, and faced the loud speaker. "How can you possibly imply that we'd participate in your sick experiment? And what the hell kind of cult is this!"

"No fucking way!" Jeff snapped, almost simultaneously. "You can take your weird religion and shove it up Pierce's ass!"

"SUCH UNNECESSARILY AGGRESSIVE BODY LANGUAGE, IT DISAPPOINTS ME. BUT YOU WILL COMPLY. WE HAVE PROVIDED YOU A PLACE OF REPOSE, AND THE PHYSICAL COMFORTS YOU MAY REQUIRE. YOU WILL PERFORM THE FULL SPECTRUM OF SEXUAL ACTS, HERE, FOR OUR STUDY, OR YOU WILL BE NEUTRALIZED AND REPLACED."

As he said the word _neutralized_, the lights in the small room dimmed to a quarter of their power, and a strange humming noise kicked in from every direction.

"SO THERE IS NO DOUBT THAT YOU ARE COMPLETELY IN OUR CONTROL, WE INVITE YOU TO LISTEN TO THE HIGH-PITCHED SOUND BEING EMITTED INTO YOUR ROOM. YOU WILL HEAR IT GET LOUDER, AND THEN GET FARTHER AWAY. THAT IS AN ILLUSION, IT IS ACTUA-"

Jeff and Annie never heard the last words of his explanation, because the sound swamped their ears and everything went suddenly, violently white.

* * *

When the two Greendale students woke up, heads pounding, and found themselves still ensconced in the small windowless room, the angry floodgates opened. The mysterious captors had left Jeff his watch, which told them it'd been nearly a day and a half since their kidnapping from the tour group in Pierce's Lotus Temple.

"No fucking way," Jeff said for the what felt like the eighth time.

Annie growled and tugged at her hair with nervous hands. "Look, these people are serious! If this is what they want, let's just get it over with and get out of here."

"We don't know that they will let us out of here," he pointed out. "And I don't perform well under threats of violence. We do not negotiate with terrorists."

"They're not terrorists!" she snapped. "And we might have to comply, unless you've got an uzi under your shirt that I'm not aware of."

Indignant, Jeff pointed at the large futon on the carpeted floor of their prison. "And you're okay with just _demonstrating _for them?"

"No," snapped Annie, marching up to him. "I'm not okay. But I don't want to get brain-zapped again. I didn't enjoy it, and who knows that side effects it's going to have? We could get tissue damage if they do that too many times. If sex is what it takes to get out, I'd just as soon do it."

Feeling his anger slide away for a moment, Jeff grabbed his friend by the shoulders. "Hey, hey, stop." She turned her head away, but he caught her chin. "Annie, I know what you're doing. You think that you have to be the tough one, that you can just push through and carry this. That's not gonna happen."

Annie rolled her eyes. "Jeff, you don't have to baby me, I know what I'm-" He interrupted her with an embrace, wrapping long arms around her tiny frame.

"This isn't about who's grown up enough to handle fear," he whispered. Tucking his cheek against her chocolate hair, Jeff held her until Annie let herself give in to the support. He felt a soft sob against his neck, and hugged her closer.

"I don't want to do this for someone else's benefit, Annie, and I know you don't want to either. Let's not make any decisions yet. We can wait it out."

"Okay," she mumbled. They sat on the futon, still curled together, and waited.

Their captors seemed unhindered by time, because when Jeff woke from a dark sleep against Annie's side, he saw another four hours had passed. The lights of the room were still dim, and there was no sign of change in their situation. When he stood up, a wave of hunger swamped him, and he stumbled dizzily.

When he had his bearings again, he noticed two trays of food and a gallon jug of water near the door. Inadequacy and fury competed briefly with the hunger when Jeff realized the door had been opened while he and Annie slept. Eventually the hunger won, and he touched his friend's shoulder to wake her up.

After some debate about poison, they ate the food. Though the cell was mostly composed of the large futon and the shelf of linens, one tiny corner was sectioned off with a curtain, hiding a toilet and sink. They made use of the amenities, discussed their situation again, and resolved once more to wait.

"They can't keep us here forever," he pointed out. "And they haven't used the noise to knock us out again. That's a good sign."

"It means they know we're discussing it," muttered Annie. Stress and fear were bringing out a pessimistic side of the young woman, and it worried Jeff. He couldn't think of a reason to disagree with her assessment though, so he let the matter drop.

They talked, they ate, and they slept for three days. The outside world continued on without them, busy with summer classes and regular life. Conversation fixated on their friends, their prayers to be rescued by the police or the FBI, and a constant debate of their options.

After the fourth day in captivity, Annie stopped debating. Fed up with the waiting game, she acted.

* * *

On the soft futon, Jeff slept deeply and fitfully. So far in this hell-place his dreams had been nervous visions of chases and near escapes, interspersed with small nightmares where Annie or himself were tortured. Tonight's episode was different, however. Annie was with him, as usual, and they were sitting on the brown couches in the Greendale Student Center.

As they talked about Shirley's sandwich shop, Annie slid off the couch and moved in front of him. Smiling, she knelt down and pushed his legs apart, still chatting about Shirley's decision to use kosher ingredients. While Jeff nodded along with the conversation, dream-Annie casually unzipped his fly and pulled out his ready erection. Nobody else in the student center seemed to notice what was going on, and dream-Jeff found himself speechless.

"Kosher is important, because I just love a firm, crunchy pickle with my sandwich," said Annie, loosing a little giggle. "Something big and tasty." With a wink, she lowered her mouth over his penis and began to suck the dripping head. Up and down, she moved, like a wet, delicious machine. Jeff reached out to touch her hair-

-and felt it.

He awoke instantly, tense as a bowstring, and realized Annie was above him, one leg between his, her lips moving slowly down his flat stomach. His shirt had been unbuttoned, but she was nearly to his waist, and he knew what would happen then.

"Annie, stop, you don't have to do this."

"Close your eyes Jeff," she soothed. "It's okay, this is easy. Don't think about me, just close your eyes and imagine someone. I'll take care of everything."

"I don't want to imagine someone else," he hissed, but his hands felt too heavy to lift as he watched her pluck open the top button on his jeans. Stopping her should be his first priority, but the sight of Annie crawling between his legs and licking a path down his abdomen was something he'd fantasized about. All those nights alone were coming back to haunt him now, as Jeff found himself unwilling to keep the real thing from unfolding.

"Then look at me," said Annie, giving an actress's perfect smile as she released his already hardening boner. "This is what you've wanted for a long time, right?"

Slowly delicately, her tongue danced out to brush his sensitive tip. Jeff's breathing sped up at the sight. Still smiling, Annie dropped to lick a long stroke up his shaft, from base to point, swiveling as she went. At the top, she enveloped the dripping head in her mouth. When she sucked so much that her cheeks pulled in, the visual contrast of her white face and pink lips above him made Jeff clench his hands into fists.

"Oh fuck," he said. "Annie..." But words failed when her head lowered as she took the full length of his cock down her throat. Jeff fell back against the futon, arching his hips up to meet the warmth of her mouth.

It was exquisite, almost unbearable, to know that it was Annie sucking him off right then. The cell didn't matter, the reasons didn't matter, just the knowledge that his cock was in Annie's sweet, round mouth. The mouth he'd dreamed fucking for nearly three years. So many unattended fantasies he'd had over her, so many guilty moments in the shower or the bed that left him spent and shaking, telling himself it was okay because she was old enough, because she was his friend, because she might imagine him that way too.

All of that was nothing to the experience. "Fuck, Annie," he moaned while she sucked and licked, deep-throating him from above only to pull back again moments later. Over and over she did this, simulating sex with her lips, her tongue, and her soft heat. "Annie, I want, I..."

"Don't talk, Jeff," she murmured, lips touching his swollen head with every word. "Just feel this, let it happen." She licked and swirled, taking him down and then pulling back to speak again.

"Remember the time when we were camping, and you saw me change behind the tree?"

He groaned, pushing his hips up, and she continued. "I wanted to put on my swimsuit, but didn't have time before we left the campsite. You saw me by accident, then pretended you hadn't. I noticed, Jeff. Did you like what you saw? Did you imagine it later?"

"Yes," he confessed, and Annie rewarded him with another long, deep swallow of his cock. His fists released the clumped blanket and he finally touched her head, holding her while he tried to thrust upward against her hotness without being too rough. She stayed there, suckling, encouraging him with girlish little sounds around his dick.

"I wanted to do this," Jeff said breathlessly. "I wanted to fuck you against the tree, and in the lake. None of it was your imagination, Annie. I-Aaaahhhh-" he nearly lost his ability to talk as the motions of her mouth got faster. "I wanted to be inside you-any way you'd let me-"

The sensation of her mouth, her hands, and the admittance of his suppressed desire culminated in a blinding crest as Jeff came in Annie's mouth. Arching with the release, he felt the overwhelming ride reach its pinnacle as he spent himself and Annie swallowed all he had. When it ended, he opened his eyes to see her sit up and wipe at the corner of her lips with her thumb. It was a devastatingly sexual thing to see from Annie Edison, even in this place.

This place, he repeated to himself through the haze of orgasm. No, this _prison_, he remembered, as logic slouched back into his brain.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_, went his thoughts, running faster than he was prepared for. Annie had just- and he-

"None of this was real," Jeff realized aloud. Out of breath and flustered, he tried to right himself. Sitting back on her folded legs, his much younger friend watched him with a closed expression.

Palms shaking slightly from aftermath, he tucked himself back in, and then reached for Annie. She took his hand, but wouldn't quite meet his eyes.

"Yeah," he said at last. "Same here."

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	2. Pour a little salt, we were never here

**Writing Soundtrack**: the "Jeff/Annie Sexy Fanmix (NBC Community)" playlist on Songza.

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**pour a little salt, we were never here  
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The two prisoners lay next to each other on the futon, not touching, eyes on the dimly lit ceiling. After days in a shared space they didn't need to cross the room to be distant with each other. Hours had passed since The Incident (as Jeff referred to it) and whatever inspiring bug had spurred Annie to pursue her own solution to their predicament was long gone.

Despite his much-lauded experience with the opposite sex, Jeff couldn't put two thoughts together long enough to have a plan for what should happen next, much less act on it. Everything about this was alien to his experience, from Annie's dramatic mood swings to intensity of their oral sex act. Jeff hadn't come so hard in, well, at _least _a year. And it couldn't all have been because of Annie, he was intuitive enough to know that much. Maybe it was the surprise she'd given him, the terror of their circumstances, or just the fact that he'd avoided a hook up with Annie for so long, but The Incident had shaken Jeffrey Winger. The present and the future were slipping out of his control—or had never been in his control. On top of that panicky thought, Jeff's brain was stuck in a psychological loop where every time he looked at Annie, he saw nothing but a vision of her going down on his cock.

That image would be with him for life, Jeff knew. He could be ninety (if they ever got out of this cell), and he'd be able to pull up a high-definition, picture-perfect memory of Annie's lips making a wet _pop _as she pulled away from him like a used up piece of candy. This delectable scene was then followed by the worst post-sex episode of Jeff's life as they'd waited for approval like a couple of bionic test monkeys. Clearly, Annie had hoped for some reaction from their captors, or she wouldn't have made the sex decision without him. Jeff's whole involvement in this scenario was to sit there like a moron and let the situation play out between Annie and the cameras, too stunned to help or hinder her agenda. When no response was forthcoming, Annie's next decision was to lie down and pretend the world didn't exist. Jeff saw no point in interfering with that plan, either.

He couldn't imagine what Annie was feeling right now, and that scared Jeff the most. Did she enjoy it? Did it mean anything to her? His own reaction hung in the air between them, but she kept her feelings closed up. If she didn't want to talk, then he certainly wasn't going to, but the ambiguity gnawed at Jeff. He worried that something might be broken forever in this room, sacrificed permanently to their captivity.

After a while, the traumatized friends drifted into sleep, alone together in their domestic prison.

* * *

This time Jeff woke up first, face hot and blood racing, but he relaxed when his eyes opened to the empty ceiling. He halfheartedly observed new food dishes by the door, then turned his back to them in favor of watching his bed-mate.

Across the futon, Annie slept on her side facing him. Her clothes were looking a little grubby, and their light blanket only covered up to her waist. Jeff imagined tracing her features with his finger, even bringing his hand up in temptation. After a long minute he retracted it, deciding not to risk waking her with the contact. As she slept, Jeff re-examined their predicament for the thousandth time, discarding ideas until he settled into the cold grip of reality. When Annie woke at last to see his eyes across the bed from hers, Jeff was ready.

He brought her the food and water, waited while she used the curtained-off stall, then suggested she to sit down in tone that brooked no argument. Annie rolled her eyes, and he thought she might turn her back again, but after a few seconds she folded her legs and faced him.

"Annie," he said, "We have to talk. You up for it?"

She gave a noncommittal shrug, which Jeff took as approval. Standing, the former lawyer looked around for the cameras he couldn't quite see, but were probably hidden in the vents that took air and and out of the room. Sucking up his pride, he called on the powers that be.

"Hey, assholes! We need music." No voice responded, but there was no punishing knock-out tricks, either. Good so far, he figured. "We need soothing music, but played loudly. It, uh, helps the mood." After about ten more seconds of silence, unidentifiable "muzak" began. Jeff nodded, then sat back down across from Annie on the floor.

Annie was unimpressed, and winced at the volume. "It won't help. They can still hear us."

"Can't fix that, but the illusion of privacy is better than not." Jeff threw his shoulders back, shook himself like a man gearing up for a fight. "Okay. Okay." He clapped his palms. "Time for the hard truth segment of this fiasco. You ready?"

"Sure," waved Annie listlessly. "Go ahead."

"These people can, already have, and will hurt us. Agreed?"

She shrugged. "Yes."

Directly addressing The Incident was only possible if he approached it with an attorney's detachment, so Jeff did his best to be a different person for what he said next. "Annie, what happened today, that was all wrong. Not the act, trust me, but the circumstances. It was cruel to both of us. Agreed?"

Annie seemed to shrink in on herself, but she met his gaze and nodded, "Yes."

"Good. Now listen, _listen _Annie, when I tell you that it's not your fault—or mine. They're the ones controlling things. This is their doing. So stop avoiding me, and stop trying to shut down."

Letting loose an enormous sigh, Annie leaned her head back, eyes closed. "Alright," she finally agreed, breathing out as her head came back down. "Their fault, not ours."

Jeff took his own deep breath, swelling up his chest and looking at the the air above her head. Then he let it all out in a whooshing exhale. "Hell, this should be the easiest part," he muttered under his breath. After a pause, Jeff laid out all his cards.

"Annie Edison, I want you."

Taken aback, the young woman in question measured Jeff with her wide, endlessly blue eyes. He refused falter under her examination; if he was going to do this, he was going to do it.

"I mean, that's pretty obvious, given what just happened, but still. God, Annie, I... Aside from relationships or complications, and before all this kidnapping crap, I wanted you. Ever since you took your hair down and smiled at me for debate study." His voice dropped to a whisper when he finished with, "Agreed?"

"Agreed," she said softly. The malaise had left Annie's posture, and apathy was being slowly overcome by thoughtfulness in her expression. In full litigation mode, Jeff barreled on while the going was good.

"You, Annie, want me." As soon as he said the words, a twist of something indescribable marred Jeff's determined features. He swallowed and qualified. "Or some part of me. Agreed?"

Annie scooted forward, and reached to put a hand on his ankle, where the jeans rode up from crossing his legs. His skin was warm, and he felt it when she lightly squeezed. "Since we danced at Halloween," she admitted.

Jeff Winger felt the box that was maybe, _almost_, his heart lift out of his chest like it was attached to all those balloons in that Pixar movie Troy loved. For a moment Jeff was two places at once: here in a dry cell, and cast aloft in the up-sweep of possibilities long neglected. Of course he _knew _of Annie's attraction, but to be told directly was affecting Jeff's emotions more than he was used to. He let an awkward smile break, and touched her knee in return, just at the edge of her skirt. They sat cross-legged, considering this new honesty. It was time to move on (there were bigger things to say) but he couldn't help asking for more.

"Which Halloween?"

Annie's little, sad smile could have broken hearts or kindled wars. "The first one."

"Oh," he said. The memory played back over Jeff's vision: her skinny, black costume and Audrey Hepburn pony tail. It was _so _long ago, before their conspiracy, even prior to the debate against City College. The idea that she'd been aware of him first put a staggering chink in the predatory narrative he'd built so meticulously.

Licking his lips, Jeff inhaled again. "Okay," he said, "Right. Personal question: are you on birth control?"

To her credit, Annie didn't roll her eyes or make a face. Being shy was almost pointless at this stage. "I get the shot," she replied. "But I've been thinking of switching because it makes me crazy for a week afterward."

"Hope you get the chance," he said honestly. "Next is the tricky part. We have to ask for an abeyance."

"I might know what that means," hedged Annie, "But remind me anyway."

"Think of it as similar to a postponement, or a recess."

"Why would they grant us a recess?"

"An abeyance," Jeff corrected. If their lives were depending on this, he was going to get specific. "I think they will, because we're not strangers. We weren't plucked out of the walking tour by random. They knew we were both heterosexual. I don't think they were guessing about that. If they just learned about us from Pierce today, he'd have had them convinced I was gay and you were twelve years old."

Annie gasped-a high, sharp noise Jeff hadn't realized he was missing until that moment. Her eyes got huge with realization as she grabbed his hands in her own. "He said he was _invited _specifically to this event, and told to bring guests."

Jeff nodded. "I think they were tracking Pierce for whatever reason-probably his sheer gullibility-and they knew about his social circle through him. We were targeted, and I bet Troy and Britta were next in line. It might have been just coincidence we came here instead of them."

"That's sick. And why? Who _are _they? Mad scientists? Religious cult freaks?" Annie's voice dropped to a hiss. "Jeff, are they aliens?"

"Who they are doesn't matter," he pointed out. "It may seem important, but it's not. They've hurt us, kept us prisoner, and I think they could do so in our normal lives just as easily in here."

Shuddering, Annie scooted closer until their knees touched and their heads bent close together. "Thanks for that scary thought. I had this dream that once this was over, it'd be over."

"I can't promise that, but I've been thinking about this scenario. It doesn't make sense. It doesn't _work. _They threatened us, but they've also offered us the illusion of a bed, the comfort of a friend instead of a stranger." His voiced dropped to a near whisper. "Even the promise that if we participate, we'll be unharassed. I don't think they care about hurting us, it's incidental. I think they really want what they're asking for: some kind of sexual demonstration."

Skeptical for how this was an advantage, Annie acknowledged that he was onto something. "So what's your big Winger plan then?"

"I want to go home, Annie. I want to convince them that we can't have sex here, under threat of torture, if they want a real study of human connection. If they bothered to take our sexual orientation into consideration, then they put some value on cultural mores. I can exploit that."

"Wait, Jeff, think about what you're suggesting." Her voice got higher, stress bleeding through: "You want to let them into our homes? It's bad enough here, but to—to_—perform _in my apartment or yours, knowing someone's watching? It would only take those places away from us too. I don't want to give them any part of us we don't have to."

Jeff took one hand from Annie's clenched palms and ran his fingers through his hair. "Okay, what about a hotel? We can make it a fantasy, trick ourselves into thinking we're alone. At least we can feel like we're taking part of a normal human activity then."

Annie lifted her right hand, bringing it up to Jeff's cheek. She rested there, warm and soft. "It's still going to hurt us both. You felt that as much as I did."

Knowing it would cost him, Jeff closed his eyes and said what he'd been avoiding since the start: "I can't save us, Annie."

Everything he wanted to be for Annie, for himself, lived and died with that admission.

"I'm so fucking sorry," he breathed in a spill of words. "You deserve a fighter, or a superhero, Annie. But no matter what crazy things we get into at Greendale, that's not who I am when cards fall. If I'm really cornered, negotiating is all I know how to do." Jeff's voice cracked, but he forced out the words. "This is what I can give you."

Jeff tried to blink away the water in his eyes, but it was hard when Annie looked at him with a tear running down her own cheek. "Goddamnit," she cursed, voice thick, and brought his forehead to touch hers. Eyes closed, they drew strength from the physical contact.

"I hate them for doing this to us, and I hate them for making you feel that you're not enough for me," said Annie in a desperate condemnation. "I don't care what you have to say to get us out. If something has to happen, I choose the fantasy."

"Okay," agreed Jeff. "Just follow my lead."


	3. love is not a victory march

**Writing Soundtrack**: the "Jeff/Annie Sexy Fanmix (NBC Community)" playlist on Songza.

**Rating**: Send the kiddies away.

**Notes**: Okay, I lied. There's totally more chapters coming. These two kids are just not cooperating. I can't blame them, it's been rough. Also, check it out: we have chapter titles now! Thank you moody song lyrics. I may have to revise chapter 1 to include the contraceptives conversation, which I thought I'd put in but apparently I didn't. Anyway, assume it happened in the first day.

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**love is not a victory march**

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For the next few hours, Jeff took a card from Abed and pretended that he was in a movie: a very strange, twisted indie film where the lawyer has to talk his way out of a pornography scenario into the light of day. With Annie at his side, Jeff spoke to the ceiling (to _them_) at length. He'd always been a spontaneous orator, but the line of crap that spewed out of him for this speech ran the gamut from _Gladiator_ to metaphysical and epistemological arguments.

When he felt he'd barraged his invisible audience with enough content to drive them to insanity, he closed with the bargain: We'll give you a show, if you give us the stage.

On and on, he drove the point home. Love, lust, possession—what were these to science? Ephemeral and unquantifiable. Annie's hand slipped into his when Jeff plagiarized Shakespeare, curling her smaller digits around his own. She had the same performer's sense of timing that he did, and together they presented a united front. Knowing this was their only chance, he expounded on the necessity of context as well as payoff. Give us the lie, was his promise, and we'll do what you ask.

"Please," begged Jeff when his river ran dry at last. "There is a time and a place for all things. Lend us the illusion of privacy, and when it's over, let us go."

His former debate partner gripped his fingers in approval, but before she could say anything the lights blinked out. They both jumped, but Annie clutched his arm quickly. "Wait, wait," she reassured. "Just stand still. This could be a good thing."

The door to their cell opened, letting the two students squint against blinding white lights. The light vanished, and dark figures swooped into the room to circle the couple. Before either could protest they were grabbed and blindfolded. When Annie's hand was yanked out of Jeff's, he panicked. His arm swung out and hit someone, and then he kicked at the darkness with his foot. Another person grunted, then a sharp pressure jammed into his ribs.

"Annie!" he shouted, terror climbing through his veins. His hands flailed in the darkness while he ignored the people who wanted to hold him down like a rapid dog. Annie! his head screamed at him to focus. He couldn't see Annie. He'd argued for mercy and in response they'd taken her. How many times did he have to let down the people he cared about?

Turns out Jeff Winger's infamously silver tongue wasn't good enough. He'd fucked up their only chance, and they were going to die. He threw back his shoulders and tried to buck off the arms dragging him down. "Annie! Are you—"

Wet cloth muffled his words, and an odor of flowery alcohol filled his senses. Sweetness spread through his brain like a wave of swirling purple until the world disappeared and Jeff felt nothing.

Nothing at all.

* * *

"My head," moaned a woman from his left. "What was that stuff?"

Jeff shuddered to wakefulness, and frantically swiped the sleep-sand out of his eyes. When he recognized the voice, he felt the weight of a few decades vanish from the heart-shaped hole in his chest. Together, it was better. He didn't want to contemplate waking up in this hell without her.

His vision cleared somewhat as he sat up, and Jeff cataloged all his body parts until he was sure everything was intact. It looked like they were in the back of a van; the double doors were open to reveal an unremarkable parking garage.

Beside him, Annie continued as if he'd answered her. "I swear, I am never chloroforming someone again. I bet Abed would tell me it's narrative justice."

"They didn't brain zap us this time," Jeff pointed out. "Hey, look at this."

Getting her bearings at last, Annie joined him in hopping out of the van. The garage was empty of people, and his relief at the sight momentarily staggered Jeff.

It was over, it was all _over _at last.

A grin broke across his face, and he grabbed his friend up in a spontaneous hug, swinging her around. Annie yelped in surprise, but she clutched at his neck and laughed with him. Feeling a thousand emotions at once, Jeff let her slide back down till her feet touched the floor. When Annie let go, something fell from her sweater pocket and tinkled as it hit the cement.

Out of habit, he leaned down to pick it up. When he stood again, it was much slower. Sobered, Annie touched his elbow, her eyes begging him for something undefinable. Jeff opened his palm to reveal a key chain with an orange numbered tag and a small, electronic card.

She jerked backward. "That's a room key."

"Yeah," said Jeff roughly. "Not so free after all."

Going resolute, Annie met his eyes and moved close again, ignoring the object between them.

"Jeff." She said the name as a mantra, giving him faith that he didn't deserve. The trust in her expression stung him, and he felt his stomach rise up to claw at his chest when she nodded. "Whatever you decide, I'm with you."

Holding her gaze was too much, so Jeff took in his surroundings. They were under a hotel, probably a nice one by the cars he could see. Not thirty feet away was an elevator that would take them up to the room listed on their key. They could face this thing together, and hope against luck that they made it out the same people as they started.

Or they might do the unfathomable: walk out. Right now, they could leave the parking garage. Just get a taxi or walk to a police station, and head for a more civilized world. Could they make it far before they were snatched up again? When he closed his eyes Jeff still smelled the musty air of the chamber, and tasted the bland food on its plastic dishes. There didn't seem to be any point to battling the universe if the universe kept shoving him back into his place.

"I'm tired," he admitted. "I'm tired of fighting them. And fighting you."

"Well, we're not going to fight each other any more," declared Annie. She took his free hand in hers; like a film in reverse, he flashed back to his fear as it was ripped away. Life was tenuous, and until today Jeff Winger had never understood its true fragility.

"Annie, would you like to come up?"

* * *

The room had been swallowed in saffron and sepia, then littered with casual gobs of red and ivory.

"It's so pretty," Annie said at the same moment as Jeff said, "Is this where the Thanksgiving turkey comes to die in peace?" Rolling her eyes, she poked him in the hip with her finger as she slid past his larger frame to enter the hotel room. In truth, Jeff didn't think it was _that _bad. The art on the wall was vaguely stylish, and their tiny kitchenette was a generous feature, but in his opinion someone dove a little too deeply into the fall catalog.

"This is better than my first apartment was," she told him as she ran her hand over the a small dinette table and its hardwood chairs. "It's actually a _very _ nice room, considering how..." Annie's voice stopped mid-sentence, and she retracted her hand from the cherry wood surface. Jeff could see her fascination with the hotel room wither abruptly. Shaking his head, he made his way immediately to the small black fridge.

When she asked him if there was anything good, he began removing tiny bottles of liquor. "Pick one."

"Just one?" replied Annie. She tapped on the cap of a blue and gold label that Jeff didn't recognize. Snatching it up to read, he was pleased to see she'd picked a cognac. "I would think you'd be all for running up the tab."

Putting the rest away, he looked over at her and gave a casual grin. "We've got time for the rest later." He liked it that she flushed at his implication, and liked it even better when she didn't turn away. He grabbed two small glass cups from the kitchenette and poured the an ounce of liquor evenly into both. "To endless room service," he toasted.

"I am kind of hungry," admitted Annie. She downed hers in a swig, and grimaced. "Blegh, whiskey."

"Cognac is a brandy. You don't chug it; it's for sipping, and it should've been left at room temperature." When he saw from her face that his many years of alcohol expertise weren't going to mean squat, Jeff shrugged and downed his too. "Yep," he said, smacking his lips. "Definitely not for shots."

Annie looked around the room. "So..." she began, and then their eyes met. Her mouth dropped open. Jeff's hand let the glass slide through his fingers to the tabletop. A moment of perfect synchronicity flashed between them as man and woman regarded each other. They moved at the same instant.

Being the tall one, Jeff got to the bathroom with a nose of headway. Annie shrieked what was possibly the craziest, scariest noise he'd ever heard from such a tiny person, and the distraction was enough to cost him crucial seconds. Before he could stop her the little blue-eyed monkey had the door shut in his face and the fan on high.

"No fair!" yelled Jeff over the sound of running water. "I thought of it first!"

"You lie, Cognac!" Annie shouted back. She followed in a familiar sing-song voice: "Annie wet and in the show - - - er!"

Scowling at the door, he slunk back to get a glass of water. While she rid herself of a week's worth of grime, he called room service and ordered about fifty things from the menu with a careful instructions. Hanging up from a disbelieving clerk, Jeff decided to work out his impatience with calisthenics.

Nearly half an hour later, Annie emerged from the bathroom with a cloud of steam licking her shoulders. Her wet hair was bundled in a towel, and when he looked up from his push-ups, her fresh-faced smile took his breath away. Refocusing on the carpet, he finished his last three reps, and tossed her a professional gym nod as he stood.

"M'lady."

"The water is yours, m'lord."

Jeff divested himself of his filthy shirt before he'd even made it to the bathroom. "There's a fruit platter," he called over his shoulder, and shut the door with satisfaction.

* * *

Even with the shower giving him time to clear his head, Jeff hadn't managed form a plan by the time he finished grooming. It was good just to rejoin the world of the living. He was dressed in a cream robe that mirrored Annie's, but hung below the knees on his taller frame. By now his clothes were in a pile beside hers on the bathroom floor; there was no reason to be concerned with preserving the fabric after all this. He'd just as soon burn them as wear them again.

Outside the heavy room curtains, evening was closing in. Jeff grabbed a few grapes from the food tray on the table, and watched his friend in consideration. Cross-legged on the large bed, Annie flipped through channels with Type-A impatience.

"We get FX, but we don't get twenty-four hour news. What kind of cable package is that to offer your guests? Someone could be traveling from foreign places and desperately need to know what's going on in China or the Middle East. The whole election could have come and gone, and we'd never know!"

"I'm sure we'll live," Jeff replied. Deciding he might have a plan after all, he joined Annie on the bed, pulling his feet up.

"There's something weird about Paul Ryan," she continued, muting some show about biker gangs. "Romney's alright, but that guy gives me the creeps."

"Okay," said Jeff, and reached out to touch Annie's face. He turned her chin away from the flickering television, and kissed her.

After two years of a self-imposed look-but-don't-touch rule, the kiss with Annie felt too personal, too fast. Even with The Incident in the cell, this was almost uncomfortably intimate because kissing wasn't something they'd ever practiced together. For all the sexual tension, he'd allowed little actually touching to happen between him and the youngest member of the study group. Now their noses bumped, and it took coaxing for Annie to join her tongue with his. The result was awkward, even hesitant. Was this the same woman who'd completely blown his brains apart the day before? Moving deeper into the kiss, Jeff identified his frustration, isolated it, and buried it out of the way. He raised his hand to touch her neck, and Annie leaned into the caress.

Things moved a little quicker after he launched the initial volley. A mutual decision not to speak had overtaken both of them, lest it call attention to what they were doing, and why. In minutes Annie had moved much closer to Jeff, and he pulled them both down to the bed. She ran her hands over his chest, pushing the bath robe open, and he responded by kissing down each of her shoulders. Unwrapping the robe from her figure like a present, Jeff marveled at the feel of her breasts. Abandoning her fervent lips, he pushed Annie on her back and closed his mouth on the soft flesh of her nipple. She squirmed beneath him, giving an encouraging moan, and Jeff caressed the other breast with his large, warm hand while he tended to the one in front of him.

He'd moved one leg between hers at some point, and both their robes were falling open to reveal clean skin that smelled like hotel soap. The vision of Annie splayed out beneath him was delectable, and Jeff kissed her again, harder. Annie grabbed his face and held him close, the demure little girl long gone by now. Reaching between them, his hand found wetness: her patch of hair was soft from the shower and her folds were slick under his fingers. She lay back while he moved his hand against her, her spine just barely arching off the bed and her hips rising. Kissing her neck, Jeff sped up the motion of his fingers, rubbing against her entrance and her clit, alternatively. Abruptly Annie groaned, and her legs straightened as her body went taught.

When her body came down from the high, Jeff pushed inside her. Her thighs opened like petals, and he slid into Annie's exquisite warmth. He couldn't think about the circumstances, couldn't think about the stranger's hotel room or the ambiguity of their relationship. All he felt was heat, and all he wanted was to move inside Annie.

He thrust, gently at first, and she rolled with him agreeably. They formed a rhythm, gradually increasing as he let his frustration over the last week bleed away with friction. Below him, Annie was all soft angles and cream-fleshed curves. She wriggled, moaning when he slammed deep inside her, and Jeff felt the cliff edge rushing toward him. This wasn't going to be long.

"Annie," he whispered, wanting to kiss her and feel her tongue when he came. "Annie," he repeated, and she opened her eyes, fluttering with with the motion of their joined hips. She looked with glazed expression at the ceiling, mouth parted, but when he kissed her she let her eyes slip shut again. The kiss was short and rough, barely touching before Annie tore her mouth from his and squeezed her hips around him. Jeff shuddered, and fell into orgasm with his cock still buried in her.

The breath left him, and he collapsed to one side. Above them, a vanilla cream ceiling fan rotated, and his eyes followed the arms for a minute or two. Annie ran her hand along his hip, then she peeled herself away from the bed and walked to the sink.

"You want some water?"

Jeff sat up and stared at his friend. He tried to line up her sentence with his expectations of post-coital Annie, but they didn't match. Where was the cooing? The idea that Annie Edison might be allergic to cuddling had never occurred to him; she'd always seemed to fawn over people. She walked back, handed him a glass, and slung the discarded bathrobe around her shoulders. With a small smile, she kissed his forehead and ran fingers casually through his hair. Then in a swish of terrycloth, Annie vanished into the hotel bathroom like a ghost.

Faker faker FAKER! he wanted to shout at her back.

That was a pity kiss. She was a big faker and he wished he could wipe the feeling of her lips off his forehead. The nerd's dreamatoid time booth would have been useful right about now. Still wrapped up in bed sheets, Jeff seethed internally. He should be enjoying that rare moment after orgasm when men could think clearly without being driven by baser needs, but Britta's old criticism wouldn't get out of his head.

_Emotionally unavailable. Bad at sex. _Christ, he thought. She really was a ruiner.

He glared at the bathroom door that had swallowed up Annie. Out of sight, out of mind? She'd looked away from him the whole experience, not meeting his eyes. They may have both gotten off (he was pretty sure, though maybe that should be called into question as well) but seriously? Just "Do you want some water?" and then a shower. No eye contact, questionable moaning. Annie was a good actress, which he knew better than anyone by now. Maybe he was being a little girl about this when Annie was trying to be cool, but come _on_ Winger.

He was in a beautiful hotel room with a beautiful woman, and Jeff hadn't wait two years—okay, honesty, honesty—Jeff hadn't waited three years for _that. _

Maybe it was because they were being observed, and neither of them wanted to be here in the first place? Because they might have been prisoners of Pierce's alien cult just a few hours ago? Did they still qualify as prisoners? High thread counts and fresh pineapple salad were confusing the whole cult/captive relationship. Were there cameras on him right now? Hell, was this whole awkward performance already on Lotus Temple interstellar video?

Yeah, well, fuck the aliens. Jeff Winger was _not _bad at sex, and Annie was too young and too hot to be bad at it yet. He grabbed the beside box of tissues, pulled out a few, then threw the paper box across the room so it hit the far wall with a satisfying _thwack. _

Annie was still in the bathroom. With a scowl, he turned on the TV and called room service to update his order.


	4. folded and unfolded and unfolding

**Rating: ** Oh, um, a lot. More. A _lot_ more.

**Song**: This chapter exists as it is b/c of the song "Blue Jeans" by Lana Del Rey. Fuckin' sexy. Lyric title from Counting Crows.

**Notes**: I can't believe I wrote a scene where Jeff Winger is kinda bad at sex. Let's never do that again! I've given up on predicting how long this will run. Thanks for sticking through the dark times, and I appreciate every single comment! Some of my more perspicacious reviewers have asked why they didn't run away last chapter.

_Long Answer: _Jeff and Annie have been subjected to imprisonment and injury to a point where they were unable to control their lives, and as a result they've become psychologically conditioned to respond to implied threats as strongly as literal threats. So Jeff realizes that rather than run away and fear reprisal, he'd choose to spend his time having life-affirming sex as an emotional reaction to the brush with mortality.

_Short Answer: _One can only inject so much realism into a "fuck or die" prompt.

**Bonus:** If you read carefully, you'll learn what that word meant that Loki said to Natasha in _The Avengers._American ratings censors just didn't know how dirty it was.

_**.  
**_

* * *

**.**

**folded and unfolded and unfolding **

**.  
**

When the food came, Jeff was willing to forget about everything for a moment just to _stare_. Too much for the kitchenette counter, half the sprawling feast was left on a mobile serving tray they could wheel around the room. Every appetizer on the menu had been fetched from the bowels of the Hotel d'Awkward: steak strips in a marinade, glazed nuts with sweet pear slices over mixed greens, shoestring onions sprinkled with truffle shavings, a caprese tomato salad, and French onion soup with rolls. There were four choices of entrees, because other than chicken fingers Jeff had no idea what meat she preferred. An ice bucket held a bottle of champagne, and a _cabernet sauvignon _stood to one side.

The fruit tray, now half-picked apart, was a teaser to give the kitchen time for this meal. Jeff shot a glance at Annie to gauge her approval, congratulating himself on ordering all this before they... experimented. Thankfully, Annie had the presence of mind to have their clothes picked up and laundered, so whenever they got out of this bizarro world they wouldn't be leaving in stolen robes. The clothes would come back sometime tomorrow, and until then the menu was ready to be plundered.

Despite their civil exchanges, he was a little mad at her right now. No one likes to be faked on, least of all a professional faker. Inventing a bogus class was one thing, but sex—Jeff had to draw a line somewhere. And he acknowledged that he was probably not as disappointed as Annie had to be underneath all those Shirley-smiles. After three years of build up (his fault), the lovely Miss Edison deserved mind-blowing sex more than any woman Jeff knew. Their first time might have been mishandled (also his fault), but she hadn't thrown him out so the situation could still be rectified. Until then, if Jeff knew anything after thirty-five years of mothers, girlfriends, and mornings after, it was that you never went wrong with a woman by feeding her. He eyeballed Annie from his peripheral vision.

Lured to its exquisite variety and price-tag-free shamelessness, Greendale's brightest student approached the feast like a lady in love. "Oh wow!" she said in a melding of squeal and gasp that charmed Jeff right to his murky, embittered soul. With two fingers, Annie plucked a ribbon of steak up by the toothpick and brought it to her lips. She swallowed it whole like a cat, and when she chewed the expression on her face drifted from anticipation to practically orgasmic. "Oh my god, Jeff," she purred. "That's amazing."

Annoyance hit him in a double strike with humiliation. Getting upstaged by food was a new personal low for Winger. If she'd bothered to open her eyes, Annie would've also noticed he also had the beginnings of a hard-on. It was like this girl had _no idea _what she was capable of.

"Eat up!" he urged, hoping he hadn't completely spoiled any sexual regard she may have once held for him. On his plate, Jeff collected a bowl of soup and, because it had been so long, a bread roll too. He deserved to have something go right today.

Annie was over the moon when she found the BBC channel, so they watched a rerun of _Cougarton Abbey_ and two episodes of _Top Gear._He still didn't buy this cheerful attitude, but a glass of red wine and some food had gone a long way to softening the hardness beneath her surface expression. When the tall Brit finally won the junker race, Annie brought her plate to the kitchen, and Jeff switched the TV to a soft music channel and lowered the volume to background noise.

Across the room, she stood in front of the cleared table, cloaked in a terrycloth robe with her hair in a messy pony tail. As he watched from the bed, Annie stretched her spine and then ran one hand over her neck. With her hands raised the sleeves of the robe dropped, revealing creamy white arms and the memory of soft skin.

Sliding from the bed, Jeff crossed the space till he stood behind Annie. Carefully, he set one hand on the center of her back. She gasped and jumped, but he 'shhhhsh'd her as his other hand replaced her arm at her side. With the utmost gentleness, Jeff began to massage her shoulders through the robe. Any hesitance fluttered out of Annie, and she sunk into the feeling of his fingers coaxing her muscles. The robe slipped a little, revealing the nape of her neck, and when he dragged his thumb down it her breath caught.

"Jeff," she murmured. It was a question and a statement together.

"Annie," he replied, voice low. The only sounds were the music drifting from the television, and their own breathing. His hands traveled from her shoulders down to her arms, petting the cloth as he slid his body flush with hers. He leaned down and touched his lips to the spot where her hair tapered.

"What's the, um," she licked her lips and Jeff wondered if her heart was beating fast as fast as his. "What's the goal here?"

"Let's see," he drawled, and as he said the word he took her hands and placed them on his body: one stretched up to his neck; one reaching back to his bare, muscular hip. Between them, the fabric of her bathrobe magnified their body heat. "I think I owe you something."

"How's that?" Her fingers squeezed his thigh experimentally.

Jeff chuckled against her ear. Now he knew she would play, and her feigned ignorance was cute. He moved the palms of his hands over her ribs, slowly bring them to the place where her robe joined. He pulled at one tail of the knot, and it slipped open.

"You haven't been honest, Annie," he whispered against her neck. "I messed up, and you didn't tell me."

"That's not," she panted as his hands claimed her breasts, "That's not true. It was good." Jeff grinned where she couldn't see it, and grazed her earlobe with his teeth. His touch never stopped, never lingered on one part of her body.

"Hm," he said, and slid the base of his palm over her mound, quick and hard. Annie jerked back against him, her round butt cheeks pressing on his erection through the thin hotel robe. He dove for her neck, kissing the creamy skin and worshiping every fluttery breath she released. Effortlessly, he slipped one finger inside her, then another. Already wet, Annie gave a moan utterly unlike any sound she'd made two hours before. This was pure hunger, and Jeff would never mistake it again.

When he dragged his fingers in and out, in and out, she pulled his head down over her shoulder for a scorching kiss. He pushed into her back, letting her feel how much he wanted her, and his fingers moved inside her slick entrance in a steady rhythm.

"Jeff." She whispered his name as she bucked against his hand and his hard, broad chest. "More," she panted, and he touched her clit with his thumb as she writhed. "I'm close."

It took all his self-control not to carry her backward to the bed, but this wasn't about him. Jeff had something to prove, and he wanted Annie to benefit from it. His fingers pumped faster, hitting the places that made her shudder in his harms.

"What do you want, Annie?" Her eyes were closed as the feeling took her far away, all her concentration centered in one spot. The sight of her black eyelashes against her cheeks as she squirmed and moaned was better than pornography.

"I want to feel it," she said. Her robe was halfway to the floor, caught between them by the long sleeves still on her elbows. Distracted, she wiggled to shrug them off, desperate to keep his rhythm at the same time. Freed, her hands climbed back up to his neck for purchase, and the fabric fell at last. He immediately closed the last breadth of space between them, letting his warm body capture and support her from behind. Jeff leaned them both forward, placing her hands on the tabletop and helping her knees spread apart. His hand still moved inside her, harder and faster. With every plunge Annie's breath became gasps.

"You lied," he said in her ear. Annie tried to push back against him and down to his hand at the same time. "You didn't come before, did you?"

She whimpered, "Stop teasing," and opened her legs wider. Together, they were bent nearly prone over the surface of the table, only Jeff's free hand to hold them up. Their mirrored reflections were visible through the open door of the bathroom: his taught back and her wanton face. Jeff asked her again, burning the words into her skin.

"What do you want, Annie? Tell me, so I can give it to you."

Smacking her hand on the wooden surface, Annie let loose a noise that mixed pleasure with the intense exasperation only he could evoke: "I want to come, Jeff!" Her voice croaked on the words. "I want you to fuck me like you said you wanted in the cell. I want all of that."

"Fuck," he whispered, taken back to the image of her sucking his cock and swallowing all of it. "Fuck, Annie." He used his fingers to open her folds and then with a thrust he was inside her. They moved together in hard waves, braced against the table of a stranger's the hotel room.

Her cunt was as achingly hot as he remembered, but Jeff went deeper now, and every sensation was magnified. He took Annie from behind, one hand braced on the wood while the other stayed at her clit, rubbing it mercilessly as he ravaged her quim from this desperate angle.

Spoken words abandoned him as they rocked against each other. His mouth grazed her neck and shoulders, hot little touches against the raging sensation of finally being _here_. Even if they'd had sex just hours ago, it seemed a hazy daydream compared to the torrent he felt now. This was one of his oldest fantasies brought to life: after-hours in the empty cafeteria at Greendale. As his reward for passing the Spanish final he bends Annie over their favorite lunch table, and screws her eighteen-year-old pussy until she begs.

"Please," Annie moaned, and Jeff thrust harder. This is better, he thought. This was so much fucking _better._She wasn't a kid and she wasn't a delicate piece of lace. Annie pushed back just as rough, and her breasts heaved attractively with each roll.

Mind spinning from the heat of her sex, he tried to picture himself from a week ago, a month ago: from any time before he knew what it felt like to be inside Annie. If Jeff hadn't squandered so many precious encounters, this could've happened somewhere safe. It might have been the boys' apartment, in that little imaginary room where dreams are real. After the glee performance Jeff could've invited Annie back to his place, watched her strip the Santa outfit off her milky breasts, and taken her to bed. Or what if he had seduced her into a supply closet when they played at being lawyers, palms catching her small buttoned wrists against the door? Jeff wondered if Annie would still moan his name when they fucked, or made love, or did whatever the hell they wanted.

"Jeff, fuck—oh, my god," panted Annie, thrusting to meet his cock with every pump. When she moved, a bead of sweat trickled down her spine. He caught it with his tongue, kissing its path up her back. Wherever they went now, he would want Annie again. No setting was off limits after tasting her. While Jeff lacked the power to go back in time and scream at his idiot self to seize every wasted moment, he had to believe those chances still existed.

It took no strength at all to pull her back against him, upright and barely standing. Mouths meeting, Jeff wrapped one arm beneath her breasts to keep her there. With the other he rubbed her little knot of nerves as fast as he could. His cock slid in and out until it was all too much and she reeled against his kiss, shuddering as her muscles thrummed over her whole body and her heartbeat skyrocketed. Annie slumped, breathing out, her toes still brushing for purchase on the floor, and he grabbed her tight and close.

He pumped into her two more times. "Jeff," she whispered. His face screwed up and his nose tucked into the curve of her neck while his body shook.

Annie murmured, "Jeff, Jeff..." Everywhere he felt her hands: curling against his side or touching the hollow of his neck. She kept repeating his name but her voice was a universe away.

He staggered back a couple steps to the wall, where his legs gave out. As he slid down the beige surface and collapsed, he gathered Annie shakily into his lap, winding long arms around her shoulders and her knees. Jeff sensed himself softening against her hip after they came apart. They were done, finished and spent, but his limbs couldn't stop shaking.

In the cell, in the van, or against the table, nothing changed.

_Give us a stage, we'll give you a show._

Little earthquakes jumped down his spine and tremors shook his fingertips, while Annie cupped his cheeks and murmured promises. As Jeff rocked back and forth on the carpet she hugged him, ready to be the fiercest shield. There was moisture where his face pressed into her shoulder, and her small fingers made trails through his hair.

"Shh, I've got you. I got you."


End file.
